


cherish my burdens, for they will release you

by ehemond



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, but if disney isn't going to do right by bw, holy shit did it sneak up on me, or by my babies, quite a bit of it, then i will, there is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehemond/pseuds/ehemond
Summary: After the Snap, Natasha realizes this is the third time that she's left Yelena behind. In her guilt, she works to honor Yelena's memory by completing every promise she ever made, if only to absolve herself of the one promise she couldn't keep.
Relationships: Yelena Belova/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	1. The First Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure what to say because this was originally supposed to be a slightly angsty Yelenat fic that ended in fluff and happiness, but it became...whatever this abomination is. Essentially it's a look at how Natasha moves on after the snap while also running through the entire Black Widow movie plot since I have a lot of time to speculate. It also contains all my rage and indignation on Yelena and Natasha's behalf at Disney because spite fuels everything.

It had been quite some time since Natasha had been the one setting up bombs rather than disabling them, but the motions came to her like she had never stopped. It was not a particularly elegant system, simply placing C-4 in strategic locations and setting up the corresponding detonators, but it was grunt work. One woman and a large Red Room base meant the process was not an easy in-and-out job.

Despite volunteering for the mission, Natasha couldn’t help but wish she had accepted help from the new recruits, part of Stark’s newest Avenger Initiative, but this was something she had to do alone.

Once all the explosives and detonators were in place, Natasha took a quick tour through the facility as a last precaution, but it was as desolate as it appeared, a stark contrast to the last time she had found herself gracing its halls.

Not only was it devoid of life, it appeared that nothing and nobody had made any effort to disturb the Red Room in years. Lost in thought, Natasha turned a corner and nearly ran into a closed door. Sighing, she forced her fingers through the crack in the middle and forced it open to reveal what was inside.

She did a double take at what she found. It looked like a changing room, and at the far end was an open door. Slowly, memories began rushing back to her as she made for the doorway, speeding up as she neared her target.

Natasha was nearly running as she made it through the room and out onto a stage, bursting through curtains until she made it to center stage. Turning slowly, Natasha smiled softly as memories began rushing to the surface.

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

Performing for the trainers, spins and jumps perfectly executed on a grand stage for the Red Room to show off to their guests. Hours spent honing their craft until every single trainee could perform their parts in their sleep. And at the center of it all was Natasha, the pride and joy of the Red Room.

She pirouetted with calculating precision, swanning through the air on her jumps, and landing so smoothly one could hear a pin drop, all with a winning smile that belied any idea of pain. That’s wasn’t to say the pain didn’t nearly consume Natasha throughout every performance, starting from a dull thrum in her limbs before cresting the more she pushed herself until she almost couldn’t take it. Natasha didn’t let any of that show, though, as she danced and danced before her masters until they were finished with her.

It was only then that she could stop, only then that she could stop performing, collapse onto a bed until the sun rose on the next day and the girls were sent back to training. 

It was only after a performance when the guards looked less closely at the girls in favor of currying favor with all the important men arriving to watch the girls while bidding on their skills. Only then, and not even always, when Yelena would slip into Natasha’s bed, still a small slip of a thing in Natasha’s mind curling around her for a scant few hours before disappearing before dawn.

Those few hours, with Yelena’s arm curled around Natasha’s waist and head nuzzled into her neck were what made all the performances worth it, made all the blood and pain worth enduring, if only it meant Yelena would pull her closer.

The others knew, of course. There were no secrets among the girls of the Red Room. They didn’t say anything, no one willing to gain the ire of the rest. It was a capricious system, balanced on a tenuous trust whose origin none could pinpoint.

It lasted even as girls began dropping, too weak to make it through the program. It lasted even as girls were turned on each other and made to fight to the death. It lasted even when Daria and Nadia refused to turn on each other and the rest were forced to watch as Natasha was ordered to kill them both. The other girls eyed her with a bit of distrust and a lot of fear, afterwards, but the secrets persisted.

It lasted until only twenty-eight girls remained, the first graduating class of the Red Room. 

On the day before their graduation ceremony, one last performance was held for the world to see the perfection of the Black Widows.

Part of the show involved a pas de deux, and the trainers had chosen none but their absolute best to perform it; Natasha, in the arms of Yelena as they graced the stage together. It was a magical performance, if the applause of the men watching was anything to judge by, and Natasha could feel the weight of their stares on every step, heavy and wanting.

It disgusted her, the way they viewed the girls as possessions to be owned and had, but it was nothing compared to the fear shining in Yelena’s eyes as she finally realized how little worth her life had beyond the men’s property. The stares seemed to penetrate into the blonde, causing her to shrink into herself in the shower, tears washing away as easily as the pouring water.

Glaring at the other girls and their distrustful stares, Natasha slipped into Yelena’s shower, arms first pushing down Yelena’s instinctual reaction to lash out before circling her waist. Natasha pressed a kiss to the other Widow’s shoulder, resting her head there while she whispered, “Calm, Little One. They will not hurt you, not while I’m here.”

Turning in her arms, Yelena whispered, “Do you promise?”

Natasha did not answer, both her and Yelena knowing that she could make no such promise while their lives still did not belong to them. Instead, she simply pulled Yelena closer, “They cannot hurt you if you are strong,” she whispered, “They will not touch you if you do not let them.”

Raising her head, Yelena met Natasha’s eyes, “Like they do not touch you?”

Natasha’s smile didn’t reach her eyes when she looked at Yelena. She may not have been physically hurt as much as the other girls once she began proving herself to be better, but the Red Room had touched all of them. Only by moving on could they continue living.

Interpreting her non-answer, Yelena clung to Natasha even tighter, “If they can hurt even you, how do any of us have a chance?”

“You just have to keep fighting, dear, and then one day no one will hurt you again, okay? I promise that.” Not sure if it was a promise she could keep, Natasha made it anyways. 

It was worth it, if only to see the hope shining on Yelena’s face when she made it, “One day?”

“One day, and we will be free.” Natasha nodded, “Just keep fighting for now.”

As if a switch had been flipped, Yelena’s entire mood changed when she nodded, “Just keep fighting.” Surging forward, she met Natasha in a desperate kiss before leaving the shower. “We will be free,” She repeated to herself.

Staring at where Yelena had stood, Natasha shook her head, allowing herself a small smile before starting her own shower. Afterwards, Natasha collapsed onto her bed, worried but hopeful for what the next day would bring.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Natasha was roused awake by one of the combat trainers, a hard man unafraid to beat girls into the ground to prove a point. Immediately, she noticed Yelena awake beside her, frightened eyes meeting her own. _Everything is fine_ , Natasha mouthed carefully, unsure if what she said was true, _I will be back. Go to sleep._

Unwilling to give Yelena away, Natasha allowed herself to be dragged away by the trainer, Ivan, Natasha remembered, noting the nearby guards staring hungrily at her. T _hey think I’m done for_ , Natasha deduced, _they think I’m done for and this is their chance to have at me_. As they were nearing a closed door, Natasha realized that she didn’t want to die. Not then, it wasn’t her time.

She wasn’t sure why the Red Room suddenly wanted to kill its best recruit on the eve of her graduation, but she didn’t have time to contemplate it.

Just as Ivan finished punching in the code and the door slid open with a hiss, Natasha moved, twisting her body into action and throwing him to the floor. Before the guards could register, she was running down the halls. Seconds later, alarms began ringing and Natasha could hear the pounding of boots after her.

Uncertain of where she was heading, Natasha ran through the halls, attempting to avoid patrols as her mind ran through her mental floorplan. The barracks were all underground, which meant Natasha had to find her way up if she ever wanted out.

Survival the only thing going through her mind, Natasha nearly ran into a troop of armed personnel. Body moving before her mind could catch up, Natasha grabbed onto one of guard’s weapons, ramming it back into his face before aiming it at the others and firing. As they fell, Natasha took a pistol from the first guard, checking to make sure it was loaded.

Shouts from other guards drew closer, and Natasha resolved to continue her escape. As the first guards rounded the corner Natasha struck, punching the nearest one to her before pushing him into another and attacking the next. As the others realized what was happening and began to fire, Natasha pulled one of the men in front of her to use as a shield as she returned fire. One by one, the men fell, and Natasha choked out her meat-shield before dropping him.

Surveying the carnage, Natasha shook her head. The rest of the guards must have heard the combat, and it was only a matter of time until they caught her. Natasha surveyed her surroundings; everything was steel grey, walls and locked doors. Along with the ever-nearing sound of approaching guards, they displayed a frightening reality to Natasha: she wasn’t leaving the facility in anything less than a bodybag.

The boots drew closer, and Natasha peeked around the corner to see guards approaching. Turning in the other direction, another squadron rounded a corner. The inevitability and futility of her situation before her, Natasha made up her mind. Raising the gun to point at her head, Natasha closed her eyes. At the very least, she would die quickly, rather than whatever the Red Room had planned for her.

Just before she could squeeze the trigger, a shudder ran through Natasha as her body began to convulse, the gun falling to the ground as she collapsed, and the world turned black.

When the world reappeared and she came to, Natasha found herself secured to a table, stark white lights shining into her eye.

Above her, a woman spoke, “I must say, you made an admirable effort, but I don’t know what you were thinking. Did you really believe that you could escape?” The voice was mocking, superiority lacing her words. It reminded her of all the other trainer’s, their voices echoing in Natasha’s mind. _You are nothing but a weapon. You are born to serve your country. That is all you were meant to be._

“Better dead than suffering,” Natasha retorted, tugging at her restraints.

“Is that what you thought was going to happen?” The woman moved to stand beside Natasha’s head, a shadow above her, “I had wondered at your motivation. You are the best we had to offer, and then you started to slip. Trivial things, but we noticed. You were such a good girl, the perfect Widow. And then you became a little less than perfect. What changed?”

Natasha snorted, the hopelessness of struggle dawning on her as she became more aware of her surroundings. The guards placed around the rooms, the way she was bound down to an operating table, they all served to reinforce her impotency. “You know. Why bother asking if you already know every. Damn. Thing.”

The shadow moved, slowly circling Natasha as the woman spoke, “The girl.” Her sneer could be heard, “You give everything up, forsake your country, your duty for a girl?”

“This isn’t my duty,” Natasha snapped, “This is murder and pain and you all started it, never ending, simply more and more violence. But you’re too cowardly to do it yourself, so you steal girls like me and mold us to your will, the perfect little weapons for your twisted games, killing us when we cease to fit your plans. That is not duty. It is servitude.”

“My, wherever did we learn such big words? Certainly not from us. Is that what you think will happen to you?”

“Isn’t it already?” Natasha sniped, glaring, “But you can’t even offer me a quiet death, you make sure I must suffer along the way with your perverted experiments, taking everything from me in the name of power.”

“My, what a mouth on you. Where did you get these ideas?” A hand struck out to grasp Natasha’s throat, “I hope you haven’t been spreading these lies, it would be a shame to have to deal with the others, too. They aren’t nearly as worth keeping as you. It would be such a waste, to have to start over after all the resources we put into you.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. Her anger began to build. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Them.”

The grip on her throat tightened, “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to them so long as you stay a perfect little pet, dear. And I promise. You will be perfect.” As her words trailed off, spots dancing in Natasha’s vision, the woman didn’t release her grip, and a figure walked into the room, moving to stand at the edge of the table and picking up a scalpel as the lights began to brighten painfully.

Natasha’s vision began to blur as a voice echoed, “Congratulations on your graduation, Romanova.”

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

Frowning, Natasha shook her head. That memory had taken a dark turn, but it was in the past. Turning back the way she came, Natasha strode off the stage and out of the facility. She had better things to do than reminisce on what had already happened.

Stepping out of the frankly hideous building, Natasha walked towards her vehicle, an armored truck courtesy of Stark’s bank account. Starting it up, Natasha fingered the detonation device with one hand and began to drive away.

With one last look at the hulking structure, Natasha pressed down on the detonator and whispered to herself, “They will never touch anyone again, Yelena.” 

  
  
  
  



	2. Tokens of the Past, or the Second Promise

Natasha wasn’t sure where she was headed after destroying the Red Room base, yet she knew that she wanted nothing to do with anything like it again. Clint had lost his family and turned to vigilante justice to fill the hole in his life, but Natasha found the prospect of even more violence distinctly unappealing. Perhaps she would pull a Stark, retire into a cabin in the middle of nowhere and receive guests twice a year. The closer she got to civilization, the more attractive the idea appeared, until Natasha was pulled out of her thoughts by an insistent beeping in her communicator. 

Slowing but not stopping, Natasha looked down at the message that appeared. _ Danvers is back. How about you? _

It was Steve. He had taken over heading the Stark’s Avenger base, coordinating missions and overseeing training for new recruits. He had also taken it upon himself to mother-hen Natasha despite the fact that he had spent seventy years in ice.  _ Years of operating as a deadly superspy assassin does not equate emotional growth _ , he would say. 

_ Neither does being the Avatar _ , she would respond.

Easing the truck to a stop, Natasha replied,  _ I’ll be back soon.  _

She started it back up and turned around, driving on. Hours later, she finally made it to her destination, turning off the road onto a barely noticeable dirt trail until she reached a cabin nestled into a forest.

Stepping out of the vehicle and slamming the door closed, Natasha walked towards the entrance, examining the surrounding area and finding it suitably abandoned. On the outside, the cabin looked run down, as if the last person there had left in a hurry and not bothered to return in years. At least, that’s what it was supposed to look like.

Reaching the door, Natasha pressed her hand onto a side panel, waiting for the scanner to finish before a keypad appeared, and she quickly punched in the code.  _ 94369. _

A click sounded by the door, and Natasha pushed it open, moving inside without bothering to close it behind her. Immediately, memories assaulted her as she cleared through the house. There were the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with what Melina had dubbed “Invaluable Literature” alongside the trashy romance novels both Yelena and Alexei had loved to read. Past the bookcases stood the weapon closets, filled to the brim with various firearms, bombs, and other weapons from around the world. Natasha was fairly certain the katanas Yelena had so excitably brought back from Japan after a mission were still there. Instantly, a sharp pang of familiar guilt hit Natasha. Yelena, even Melina and Alexei had become like family to her, and now it was as if they had never existed while Natasha continued on. 

Natasha always continued on. She was so sick of it. No matter how it happened, she was always the one surviving, always the one who could keep going, staying beyond the reaches of those who sought to hurt people like her. Once more, she wished that Yelena had been the one to survive, the one to make it out because she had never gotten the chance to before. It was a terrible thought, but Natasha couldn’t help the consuming feeling of guilt and helplessness that encompassed her every time Yelena had to suffer for her failures.

No matter how Natasha promised to look after her, or how hard she fought to protect Yelena from her actions, they always came back to bite her in the form of Yelena’s suffering.

Ignoring the anguish inspired by the cabin, Natasha soldiered through. The kitchen was bare, the only consumables being canned soup and an overwhelming number of vodka bottles neatly arranged in the cupboards.

Natasha checked their expiration date before snagging a few cans of soup, a pot, and a bottle of vodka and began preparing for the night.

Soup finished and a liter of vodka sitting pleasantly in Natasha’s stomach, she made her way deeper into the cabin, stepping gently inside the room she had shared with Yelena.

The room looked undisturbed, the bed perfectly made and not a thing out of place except for an origami swan sitting innocently on a bedside drawer. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Natasha picked up the swan and carefully unfolded it to reveal a note, gracefully written in Yelena’s looping script.  _ I guess we missed each other this time, but I have faith we will get it right sometime. Do not die or get brainwashed again until we do, or I will be very cross with you. I don’t care if the world is about to end, there is no world without you in it. See you soon, Natalia. _

It wasn’t signed, Natasha noticed, gazing intensely at the piece of paper in her hands. She didn’t know how long she had stared at it until she noticed the ink blurring. Reaching up to touch her face, Natasha realized that it was her own tears causing the words to muddle together.

She threw the note onto the floor, letting out an anguished cry as she did so. The sheer faith in Yelena’s words, her surety that they would see each other once more and her never-ending belief that everything would work out hurt in a way Natasha had as yet not been able to process.

Despite her bravado and ability to kill a man with her pinky finger, Yelena had always kept a frustrating innocence about her. She seemed to believe Natasha when she told her things would work out. She took Natasha’s words like a priest took the Bible, believing wholeheartedly in them as one would words from God.

The worst of it was that Natasha had already disappointed Yelena far more than she would’ve liked to admit, and yet Yelena always seemed to have hope. Some would call it naivety, but Natasha knew that no other person or idea inspired the same level of trust and faith as she did to Yelena. She wasn’t sure on the how or why, but for some reason, Yelena had every expectation that Natasha would make sure things worked out.

It was a completely unfounded faith because Natasha found herself time and time again incapable of living up to those expectations, but Yelena still believed in their ability to succeed.

It was why she had fought so hard after Natasha had disappeared the first time from the Red Room, despite all signs pointing to Natasha’s desertion. While Natasha had by all accounts been rewarded and raised up as the premier Black Widow, she knew that Yelena had been forced to endure the program once more and all the suffering that came with it in order to pay for Natasha’s mistakes. But Yelena had made it through. She had fought and she had lived through hell for the second time, all because she had believed in Natasha’s words. Those fateful words before they had been forcibly separated for decades kept Yelena going after most would have conceded to the likelihood that they would never meet again.

Natasha remembered the night she had told Yelena the whole story, explaining that she had undergone the graduation ceremony before the other girls and reconditioned, and then promptly sent on her first mission.

It was before the mess with Taskmaster and the new class of Widows had been resolved. They were hiding out in the cabin while preparing to take him down, and it was the last night before their plan was set into action. 

Natasha had nearly broken down that night, clinging onto Yelena when she mentioned her theory behind her circumstance; that they had been betrayed by one of the other girls and the nature of their relationship revealed to the trainers.

Yelena hadn’t moved the entire time, letting Natasha fall to pieces beside her without a word, and Natasha feared that was the end of everything, but Yelena had simply waited until she was finished before pulling her closer, hand resting at the side of her face and their foreheads touching. “You did not choose to leave me, Natalia,” She had whispered, “And you have never chosen to leave me. Nothing else matters.”

“But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect us.” No matter how Yelena framed it, all Natasha could see was her failure to do right by the one beautiful thing in her life.

“You cannot do everything, Natalia, but that is okay. It is like you said. We just have to keep fighting, and then one day we will be free.” Yelena swore earnestly, head nuzzling into her shoulder.

Laughing bitterly, Natasha had shaken her head gently, “We are never free. We will always be part of their sick games.”

“No.” Yelena had looked seriously at Natasha, “One day, we will be free. I don’t know how, but we will be. As long as you do not give up, Natasha, do you hear me?”

Natasha had only nodded, but Yelena had pulled her close and they spent the night curled around each other once more, neither willing to give the other up.

Shortly thereafter, they had lost Yelena to Taskmaster and Natasha was forced to confront the frightening truth that she would never be able to protect Yelena when it really mattered.

Even after everything was resolved, Yelena hadn’t held it against her, merely telling her that they had survived, and they would continue to survive. “If we are alive, we are already winning,” She had said, smile blazing on her face, “They have already lost if we are alive.”

Thinking back on it, Natasha realized the impact her words had made on Yelena. She had been beaten down and forced to walk through hell twice over, but her spirit had never shattered because she believed in Natasha’s promise. Moreover, she had taken those words and given them meaning beyond anything Natasha had ever imagined, a meaning that had saw her through the worst times of her life.

Natasha let out a laugh in disbelief, shaking her head, “Maybe that was it.” Yelena had clung on to Natasha’s words, her promise serving as a double-edged sword that gave her the strength to continue living, while also causing her to misplace her trust in Natasha. Because it was misplaced. Nothing Natasha had done had been able to make sure Yelena won, none of it had really mattered because at the end of the day, Yelena had only made it so far because she believed that there would one day be a future where they would both be free. 

Natasha’s failure meant that future would never exist.

It was a special kind of punishment, Natasha mused. Yelena had disappeared like she had never been there at all while Natasha was forced to endure living in a world without her.

The thought sent a sharp stab of pain into her heart, but Natasha wiped away the tears, standing to retrieve the note. She carefully laid it out on the dresser to let it dry, before making her way into the shower to clean off all evidence of the Red Room.

The pounding water gave her the clarity needed to reflect because even if Yelena was no longer in the world, her words continued to echo in Natasha’s head. She had wanted Natasha to keep going, no matter how it had hurt her to be left behind. After all, she would always catch up, wouldn’t she?

No matter what happened, Yelena had always believed in their ability to survive everything the world threw at them, and she would have wanted Natasha to keep fighting. It didn’t matter how she felt, Natasha sighed, stepping out, because she would keep her promises to Yelena, if only because she couldn’t keep the most important one, the one she had never been able to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was actually really hard to write because I had to start really separating MCU canon from my not-significant comic knowledge combined with headcanon, so for a brief overview, I put Melina and Alexei as more older sibling types to Yelena primarily, but they become closer to Natasha after the whole mess with Taskmaster. 
> 
> I've already veered off MCU canon, but if anyone with a deeper knowledge of Marvel lore wants to discuss my timeline with me, just hit me up, but otherwise, we're going with whatever my brain can cobble together.
> 
> This chapter involves a lot of exposition, but also what I hope is a decent analysis of my take on Natasha's character and her relationship with Yelena. Also cheers to whoever can guess my basing off Yelena's character because I am mostly cobbling it together out of my own head and the few seconds of her in the trailer.


	3. An Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I did plan on updating weekly on Sundays but also my motivation is on like a roller-coaster or something but I think I'm back on track now with the next few chapters.

Natasha didn’t bother resting in the cabin, sure that the memories would consume her if she had to sleep in the same bed she had once shared with Yelena. Instead, after her shower, she got back in the truck and drove away from the cabin until she was suitably in the middle of nowhere with no hidden cabins in sight, and pulled out her communicator, typing rapidly. _Sending coordinates. Ride?_

Almost immediately, a typing indicator popped up, disappeared, and then popped back up. _Do I want to know why you are in the middle of Siberia?_

_Probably not._

_Alright. Sending a plane from Alaska now. Should be about 45 minutes._

Satisfied, Natasha closed her communicator and set it beside her, pushing her seat back and settling in to wait. 

The time passed quickly, and before she knew it, Natasha found herself in one of Stark’s jets heading straight for upstate New York. 

Upon arrival, she found herself greeted by both Steve and Carol, the latter hugging her tightly the moment she stepped off the plane. “Nice haircut, captain.”

Carol laughed, releasing Natasha “Good to see you too, Romanoff.”

Cracking a smile, Steve pulled her into another hug, “Long time no see, Nat.”

“Yea.” Natasha agreed, offering nothing more.

“Been up to much?” Carol teased lightly, “You know, while the rest of us have been out keeping the universe in order.” There was no hostility in her tone, simply gentle ribbing.

It was strange, Natasha reflected as the two captains led her farther into the compound, how easily she had fallen into a friendship with Carol. With Steve, Clint, and the other Avengers, it had taken far more time for her to gradually let down her walls around them, but Carol had blasted into her life and through her social barriers with a natural ease. Like they were kindred spirits, she said.

Regardless of how it had happened, Natasha had found in Carol a natural confidant who was just as focused on her duty to the universe as she was to her social health.

With the newfound friendship, however, came a quick lowering of barriers Natasha wasn’t used to, nor was she entirely sure if she wanted it. As Carol blathered on, Natasha realized Steve was leading them towards the cafeteria. She had no desire to have to interact with the others residing in the compound, and rebuffed Steve’s offers for dinner, “I’ve already ate, thanks. I just need to rest.”

Steve appeared uncertain but didn’t follow Natasha when she brushed past him.

Natasha thought that was all the interaction she would have for the day at the very least, but she had barely set her things down in her room before she found Carol leaning on the doorway. Her eyes concernedly tracked Natasha’s every movement as she paced around the room. “You okay? We’ve all missed you.”

“I’m fine,” Natasha replied shortly.

Cocking her head, Carol raised an eyebrow, “You don’t sound fine.”

“Since when were you my therapist, Carol? I didn’t ask.” Curtly, Natasha moved to leave the room, but Carol blocked her path. She pushed gently at the blonde barricade, but Carol refused to budge.

“I’m not your therapist, Nat. I’m your friend.”

Carol’s concern, while well-intentioned, suddenly felt smothering and Natasha snapped, “Well I didn’t ask for that either. You just barge in here like you barged into our lives with your bright flashes and inability to see where you’re not wanted. Well guess what? None of us asked for your help, fat lot of good it did anyways, and I definitely didn’t ask for your input in my life!” She pulled Carol to unbalance her before pushing past, unsure of where she was heading. Out, at least, away from all the Avengers with their good intentions and heartfelt emotions. It was all too much.

She didn’t get far before Carol caught up to her, pulling gently on her arm to stop her. Natasha tried to tug free, but the blonde wouldn’t budge.

“What do you want?” Natasha bit out, “What in hell’s name do you want?”

“You know, we all lost people, Nat.” Carol’s words had no bite, they were said calmly with no sting, but there was an underlying steel in her tone, “And I get that you’re hurting, but there is no need to self-destruct. We all did what we could. It wasn’t enough. Now we have to live with it because we _did_ get to live. If not for us, then for all the ones that don’t have the chance. And that means not pushing away the people who care about you.”

Natasha glared, “Well some people deserve to just self-destruct, so why don’t you just let me be?” Shaking her head, Natasha continued, “I’ve ruined lives, destroyed families, killed so many people that I can’t even keep up with all the blood on my hands, and you still want to help me?”

Carol remained steadfast, meeting Natasha’s glare head on, “What you did under the thumb of evil men has no bearing on how good you are as a person. It doesn’t change that you need help, just like the rest of us.”

Laughing mirthlessly, Natasha replied bitter as a *bitter thing*, “That’s where you’re wrong. All those things? I did no matter what name it was under. The Red Room, SHIELD, it was even fucking Hydra anyways. It didn’t matter if I was fighting for the Good Guys or whoever, it was still the same, murder and _pain._ Just because you hide under the banner of righteousness doesn’t mean you’re not doing the same things I was, only you’re a superpowered ball of energy that can destroy worlds just as easily as I destroyed lives!” 

The aggression in her tone surprised Natasha and she paused, making as if to backtrack and apologize, but Carol barely blinked. “That’s what you really wanted to say, wasn’t it? You think I could’ve made a difference, actually stopped him, don’t you? And you hate me because I wasn’t there and that I didn’t do enough.”

Natasha started, “I, no. I didn’t mean that.”

Shaking her head, Carol laughed, “Do you think I don’t think about that? Every day I’m out there helping others and I see everyone I couldn’t save, or every day I’m here on Earth instead of with my family, do you think I don’t agonize over the fact that I wasn’t there? Every day, every waking moment of my life is spent replaying what I did before the snap, thinking what if. There are a million things I could’ve been doing, being with my family or helping fight Thanos, but I wasn’t there. And I will have to live with the fact that I couldn’t save my world.”

Natasha felt like a caged tiger who had lost its only source of comfort, unable to do anything but attack at the nearest person that came at her, regardless of if it was with good intentions or not. She found herself hurting in a way she had never felt before, losing what had made life so worth living.

She wanted to lash out, to rage and snarl and say that nobody would be able to even imagine her pain and anguish. Her disappointment in herself had swirled together with rage at the unjustness of the world, creating a potent blend of roiling anger. All of the pain that she had bottled up in order to function tore at her with every breath she took, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to make everyone hurt just the way she did.

She wanted to hurt Carol, tear at her weaknesses and ignite her own rage, inflict the same amount of suffering on Carol that she was forced to endure, but the words caught in her throat. It was true that Natasha had suffered, was suffering, but it was also true that she wasn’t the only one. Carol had lost her family, the love of her life and her daughter in one fell swoop. The only thing connecting her to Earth, gone, yet she still chose to come back and help them when they needed it most. Natasha’s pain was not unique; no one’s pain was unique because everyone had lost those most dear to them. It had been random chance that had torn apart families, left vast amounts of empty space, and brought the universe to its knees. No one had been spared, least of all the Avengers.

It was unfair and distinctly selfish to drown in her own pit of despair when there were so many hands reaching out pull her free.

“I’m-” Natasha broke off, shaking her head and slumping against the wall, head down, “I’m not a good person. People like you and Steve; you guys are good people. I’m just someone with too much red in her ledger who tried to make up for all the harm I’ve done to the world. I mean, look at me, attacking you just for trying to help. What kind of monster do I have to be to not recognize how other people are suffering? I don’t deserve it; I don’t deserve your help when there are others suffering far more than me willing to accept it.”

“Everyone deserves compassion,” Carol reassured her, “It doesn’t matter if you’re a saint or a sinner, no one deserves to be left alone, especially now.”

Carol’s sincerity, her genuine desire to help shined brighter than any of her flares, and Natasha found herself touched by the honest gesture of unconditional support. The last time she had felt such selfless goodwill towards her had been with Yelena.

“Thank you,” She choked out, eyes blurring with tears.

“Hey,” Bending down, Carol placed an arm on Natasha’s shoulder, projecting her motions and allowing Natasha the chance to shy away, “You’ll always have people standing by you, Nat. Don’t ever forget it.”

Smiling gratefully at Carol, Natasha nodded, “Yea. I won’t.”

Moving to sit beside her, Carol slung her arm fully around Natasha’s shoulders and pulled her closer. The two sat in silence, comfortable and contemplative. Carol didn’t ask, didn’t pry into Natasha’s psyche even though she knew that the captain wanted to know what was going through her mind; she also knew that Carol would never make her tell.

It was probably that, Carol’s gentle assistance with no expectation of reciprocation or secrets, coupled with her general exhaustion that made Natasha open, “I told her I would never leave her behind, not again.”

Turning to face Natasha, Carol replied slowly, “Well, did you? Leave her behind, that is.”

“She’s not here, is she?”

“Did you choose to leave her behind?”

“…No, never.”

“Then you didn’t leave her behind, Romanoff.”

Natasha looked away.

Carol sighed.

“Look, we all did what we could. It wasn’t enough. But you tried, and sometimes that’s all we can do. It doesn’t mean you abandoned her, and it certainly doesn’t mean you don’t care enough.”

Staring dolefully at Carol, Natasha shook her head, “You’re so like her, you know. Every time I tried to apologize for not being enough, she just told me that I did my best, and that was all that really mattered.”

“Isn’t, it though?” Carol asked, “We’re not put in this world to be perfect, and we’re definitely not here because we are perfect. We just have to keep on trying.”

Carol’s words were edging on the metaphysical, and Natasha found herself suddenly tired, “Since when did you get philosophical on me, Danvers?”

“Since you decided to stuff down your feelings instead of going to therapy,” Carol retorted coolly, “Not that I mind, but I should really start charging for all my motivational speaking.”

Natasha snickered, “Carol Danvers, saving the world one depressed Avenger at a time.”

“Someone’s got to do it.”

“Someone’s got to do it,” Natasha echoed, before standing up, “Someone always has to do it.”

Rising with her, Carol clapped Natasha on the back, “Better us than nobody, right?”

Natasha thought back to Yelena, the unflinching earnestness with which she sought her out despite the supposed betrayal because she believed in Natasha’s ability to do good and _help_. Yelena had lived in a world where Natasha left her, but she had still believed every word they had promised each other in their darkest moments.

In that time, after Ultron and Hydra and Steve and Bucky and the Sokovia Accords, Natasha hadn’t believed in anything except her ability to be a massive failure, incapable of protecting anything she cared about.

Yelena had drawn her out, given her purpose anew and Natasha had never been able to live up to her fantasy of them.

Her introspection was interrupted by Carol, who poked her shoulder to stop her overthinking, “You good?”

It wouldn’t do, Natasha realized, to stay caught in the past. It wouldn’t do to obsess over what could’ve, what should’ve been, to lash out at the world at her failures because it was all in the past. Yelena wouldn’t have wanted that from her because Yelena had always wanted them to move forward, even if it meant their paths diverged.

What she had planned on doing, burning all her bridges and starting over was not living. Living meant embracing the people that cared for her and working through her problems. Coupled with Carol’s comforting gaze and the knowledge that she still had a family, Natasha found the thought of pulling a Stark far less appealing than being an Avenger again.


	4. We All Need Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished writing this part and realized it fit into the story far better as Chapter 4 rather than Chapter 5, so I'm putting it up as Chapter 4 and reformatting the previous one to fit in as 5, which should be up soon since there're only some minor edits going through it.

The first thing Natasha did when she woke the next day was lie in her bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating her life choices. Joining the daily briefing was out, she decided – after yesterday, she wouldn’t be helpful to anyone. There was no point in joining a meeting only to do absolutely nothing.

Looking out her window and noting the sun’s progress in the sky, Natasha decided to go on a run instead. If nothing else, at least she would have enjoyed the makings of a beautiful day before falling into a pit of despair.

On her way out of the facility, Natasha found herself stopped by Carol’s cheerful greeting, “Hey! Romanoff!” The blonde captain trotted up to Natasha like a particularly eager space puppy, “Where’re you headed?” 

“Out. For a run.” Natasha did not elaborate. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Carol’s company per se, but she had been looking forward to her run. Alone.

“Oof. Running.” Carol frowned playfully, “Sounds terrible. Want company?”

The offer was light, mindful of their interaction the day before, and Natasha knew a refusal would not be taken as anything particularly ill-mannered.

Nevertheless, she found herself agreeing to Carol’s offer. Perhaps she was more in need of companionship than she thought.

“Great! I was just going to head down to the gym, see if anybody wanted to go a few rounds, but I guess now’s a good a time as any to get some cardio done!” Carol bounced lightly on her feet, looking for all the world like the human embodiment of a golden retriever. Who went to space. Regularly.

It still astounded Natasha, how genuinely thrilled at the world for simply existing Carol seemed to be, but she figured everyone had their own ways of coping. It wasn’t like her brooding sullenness was better to be around, anyhow.

They started down the path leading into the forest bordering the facility, both of them settling into a pace far beyond the capabilities of a normal human. For them, it was more akin to a light jog.

The two of them ran that way in companionable silence, for which Natasha was grateful. Carol seemed to understand that Natasha was not ready for casual conversation at such an hour, and she had her own demons to settle as they looped through the forest and back towards their origin.

Just as they could begin to make out the facility through the trees, Carol veered off towards a rarely used side path, calling out behind her, “Just trust me for a sec, you’ll want to see this.”

Natasha ran after Carol, heading back into the forest until the trees broke away to reveal a vibrant meadow filled with flowers. Carol slowed to a stop, Natasha mimicking her as they looked on at the field before them.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Carol offered, “I found this place the last time I visited.”

Natasha spun around slowly, watching as the sun illuminated the meadow and the picturesque scene before her, “It’s beautiful.” It was not just the physical beauty that captivated Natasha – it was the silence. As if for the first time since the world fell apart, Natasha could finally embrace the silence. 

“It really is,” Carol agreed, staring up at the sky, “Sometimes, when I feel like I’m about to fall apart, I find myself here, talking to the heavens.”

Natasha nodded. She could understand the need to seek resolution from something beyond oneself, “If there could ever be an answer to the world’s questions, surely it would come from the sky.”

Carol laughed brightly, turning to face Natasha with a smile that outshone the sun itself, “Yeah. You know the first time I came here, all by myself, it was like I could finally exhale. Everything I’d been holding onto disappeared in that moment, and I could simply just be.”

“Like a peaceful oasis in a desert full of chaos.”

“Exactly.”

Natasha looked at Carol, who in turn stared back at the sky with a painstaking sort of tenderness. She appeared so, incredibly sad. It seemed as if Carol were searching for something she knew she would never be able to find. No, Natasha corrected herself, Carol was searching for something she would never be able to find again, but it did not mean that she would ever stop trying.

“I recognize that look.”

“Oh?” Startled out of her musings, Natasha hadn’t noticed as Carol came up to her until they were already standing side by side.

“It’s the look someone has when they think they’ve realized something.”

Natasha allowed herself a slight smile, “Perhaps.”

“Care to share this realization with the rest of the world, Romanoff?”

“Just you and me here, Danvers.”

“No,” Carol shook her head, staring wistfully upwards, “You, me, and the sky.”

Natasha copied Carol’s movements, turning her eyes up to the sky as well, “And who knows what’s up there.”

“Anything and everything,” Carol murmured, “A world of endless possibilities if we just saw how high we could go.”

Natasha tilted her head, observing Carol as she seemed to beg the sky for answers, as if they could be found among the sky and stars. “You put a lot of faith into whatever’s up there, Danvers.” Natasha could not quite understand Carol’s fascination with what lay above them, but she supposed it had more to do with the fact that Natasha had never even left the solar system, while Carol had explored untold galaxies far beyond the imagination. Carol was a creature of space while Natasha was content to remain bound to the Earth.

Carol smiled sadly back at Natasha, shaking her head before turning back towards where they had come from, “I’ve seen and explored the most amazing things in the universe. After everything I’ve been through, it’s hard to imagine living your whole life on earth.”

“Yet somehow humanity still manages,” Natasha returned dryly, “There’s just something about this place.”

Carol nodded, “There really is. Things just seem to happen here. And with all that I’ve done, all that I’ve seen, somehow I still couldn’t be here when it mattered most.”

Bitterly, Natasha laughed, “It seems we’re never here when it matters.”

“No,” Carol sighed, “We’re really not.”

Moving closer to Carol, Natasha laid her best approximation of a comforting hand on Carol’s shoulder, noticing her slight jolt at the contact, but also how Carol seemed to lean into the touch, “We just can’t seem to get the timing right.”

Carol let a sliver of a smile slip through, “Timing. Right.”

“Timing,” Natasha shook her head, “We miss a whole lot of time with the people we love, and by the time we get around to coming back, it’s too late. Sounds familiar, right?”

“Happens to the best of us,” Carol agreed.

Natasha did not answer, thinking about the decades she had lost, all spent away from Yelena. She thought about all the time she had lost, even when they were both free from the Red Room, all because Natasha had been too busy dealing with her inner demons and SHIELD to truly be with the great love of her life.

To have had unwillingly spent so much time apart, only to choose further separation when the time came to rectify her mistakes, it was all too poetic that Natasha would never again have the opportunity to choose. Never again would there be a chance to have Yelena. The world worked in mysterious ways, but Natasha could not help but think it a fitting punishment; her failure to embrace Yelena once she had the chance meant that there would be no more second chances.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Natasha was interrupted by Carol’s voice, “Can’t have you falling into any more pits of suffering, you hear me?”

Natasha was not entirely sure if she could agree with Carol, but Carol did not seem willing to let up. Although Natasha could appreciate Carol’s earnestness and her desire to protect Natasha from herself, she did not appreciate being seen as someone who needed constant saving.

“Maybe I want to fall. It’s not like there’s much else outside of my pits of suffering,” Natasha returned sardonically, voice tinged with sharp bitterness.

“It doesn’t seem like there is, especially when we lose the people we love most in the world,” Carol admitted, “But there is always something worth living for.”

“You figure that brilliant thought out during your sojourns off-planet?”

Carol sighed, “No, I figured that out while contemplating a grief-filled rampage of chaos and destruction before realizing that my life was fuller with Maria and Monica in it, and to do anything but honor their memory would be destroying everything we built together. That, more than anything, would be the tragedy.”

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, Natasha sighed in turn. It pained her to admit it, but Carol was right. Yelena would have hated what Natasha had become, would have hated the path she had been spiraling down, and Natasha still could not be what she would have wanted.

“I know,” Natasha said quietly, “I know and I still can’t be what she would’ve wanted me to be, but it’s just so hard to want to be anything at all beyond a pit of, well, despair. I just,” Natasha closed her eyes to stop any tears from falling, "I want to stop hurting.”

Natasha did not react when Carol reached out to hug her. It was as if with her admission of pain, Natasha had finally opened the floodgate of emotions she had yet to process, and now they overwhelmed her with brutal force. Carol’s comforting actions barely registered.

It was Carol’s gentle words that brought Natasha out of her head, “You’re lost, aren’t you? Every time you thought your life had purpose, it’s just been taken away, again and again. It feels like you’re wandering around in an endless maze with no purpose, no end goal, doesn’t it?”

Tightening her hold on Carol, Natasha nodded slightly, the words flowing before she had time to reconsider, “I thought I could finally do some good with SHIELD, and then it turned out to be HYDRA, and then it was the Avengers, and after all that fell apart, there was Yelena. After all that time, I thought I could finally have something worth fighting for, but now she’s gone and I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Natasha’s ensuing laugh was completely mirthless, “I should have listened to Tony when he offered a therapist.”

“It’s not your fault-”

“Oh? It’s not my fault that I can’t handle my emotions like a child who never learned to control themselves? It’s not my fault that I can’t behave like a normal human-being? It’s not-”

“It’s not your fault, Natasha,” Carol cut Natasha off, “It’s not your fault because you didn’t have a normal childhood, you never had a chance to grow up like a, what you call it, normal human-being, and you were taught how to cope with any emotion beyond anger.”

“I should’ve learned, shouldn’t I? Over a decade free from the Red Room, and I still couldn’t find it in myself to figure out how to function properly.”

Carol only looked more pained the more Natasha spoke, as if she had undergone the same suffering that Natasha had, “You never thought to try, though, did you? There was never a reason to learn, and by the time there was one, it was too late, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like there were people trying to help accommodate you into ‘normal’ human behavior, was it? SHIELD used you just as much as the Red Room, and you never had any guidance because an unfeeling robot was just as effective, no matter what side of the law it rested on. You never had your own emotional agency because it was never in anybody except your own best interest to have it. You have to understand, it is not a failure that you never learned how to respond to emotional trauma because most people are given their whole lives to learn, and you never even had a chance.” At the end of her rant, Carol looked, more than anything, incredibly sad, “They took that from you.”

“No,” Natasha said, gazing up at Carol as her face hardened, “They took that us.”

“They did.”

Natasha shook her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe her own realization, “I was never my own person. No matter what I did, I always based my own worth on what I could do or offer others. It was never about me at all.”

“When people play games with the lives of others, it’s never about us,” Carol replied, “But we can always take back our lives. There comes a time when their power over us is only as much as we give them, and we have to take it back for ourselves.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Natasha agreed. It all seemed so clear to her, as if a cloud had been covering her mind the whole time, and Carol had pushed it away to free Natasha’s mind. Her life was her own and basing its value on anyone or anything had destroyed her sense of self. Before any meaningful growth could happen, Natasha had to learn to live for herself, by herself. It didn’t invalidate what Yelena had meant to her, it didn’t make her life worth any less, but Natasha had to be able to continue living for nobody but herself, not even Yelena.

“You deserve it.”

“I do,” Natasha affirmed, “I really do.”

Carol smiled, clapping Natasha on the back, “Look at you, taking control of your life,” She gestured for Natasha to follow her as she headed back for the facility.

“You should become a therapist,” Natasha remarked as they went, picking up her pace, “You’ve done more than any SHIELD psychiatrist has ever managed.”

“Maybe,” Carol laughed, before sobering, “But please, actually go find a therapist.”

“…I’ll think about it.”


	5. Something Like a Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter was originally Chapter 4 and has been reformatted to fit in as Chapter 5*
> 
> This chapter was like kind of hard to write stylistically because my mood did like a complete one-eighty like three-quarters of the way through, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. However, I am quite happy with how it turned out.

The next morning, Natasha woke early again. She prepared herself for the morning quickly, making her way down to the training area, a bustle of activity greeting her as recruits began their morning routines. She found an empty training room, she made her way in and locked the door behind her, dropping her bag as she did so.

Bending down, Natasha pulled out her pointe shoes, ready to start. She set her phone into the speaker, warming up as the soothing tones of an orchestra began to play. Thoughts faded away as her mental count began, one, two, three, over and over again, muscle memory taking over as Natasha began to move.

The time passed as if in a blur, Natasha’s body twirling, twisting, leaping and landing to the beat of the music. The movements were less refined, more controlled by the thrumming melody than the strict arrangements she remembered practicing a lifetime ago. 

What would her trainers think of her if they saw her now, Natasha wondered. No longer restrained by their tempers and fear, Natasha let herself move freely, unburdened by the need for perfection.

Despite the strain in her body, Natasha only vaguely felt the twinges of pain reminiscent of long hours spent honing her skills. It was as if a weight had been released from her shoulders, and she moved like a woman who could do anything, who answered to no one but herself.

Eventually, the music stopped, and Natasha realized hours must’ve passed, too lost in the sheer relief to notice the passage of time. Sweat clung to her body, and despite feeling like a sweaty mop, Natasha smiled.

It had been some time, Natasha reflected as she strode through the training facilities back to her rooms, since she had last danced. Longer still, since she had enjoyed it. It wasn’t even ballet that time. In fact, it had been quite some time since her feet had graced their pointe shoes. 

In recent memory, Natasha had only danced as a performance, whether it was with a partner in formal settings, or squashed in the pulsing bodies of a club. Every time had been for a reason, every beat, count, and step carefully measured to draw attention, or avoid it in equal measure. Her movements were always made with an exacting goal, never a simple physical release for herself, but a production for the attentions of others.

There was a certain catharsis to be found, Natasha decided, in turning off her mind and letting her body make the decisions. After all that had been taken away from her, surely she deserved the moments of peace found in losing oneself to music and movement. 

Despite how hard Natasha found it to think of her, Natasha knew that Yelena would have agreed. Wow, her counterpart would’ve said, mouth exaggeratedly popping the o, you are doing something for yourself and not work. I am proud of you, dear.

Laughing to herself, Natasha shook her head. Yelena had loved dancing together, taking every opportunity to take Natasha into her arms and sway to a beat, real or imagined. Natasha hadn’t always entertained her whimsies, but she would’ve liked to far more than she had the chance to.

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

They had finally dealt with Taskmaster, Natasha taking pains to ensure that he would never touch another girl again. 

Although most of the remaining widows were to be sent farther on through SHIELD for deprogramming and continue on with their lives, Natasha had made sure that Yelena could stay by her side. Both widows had sustained considerable injuries, but the serum pulsing through their veins meant they recovered quickly and were released easily with mostly clean bills of health and implorations to take it easy by the doctors.

Melina and Alexei had long since disappeared into the wind, promising that they would keep in touch, but otherwise keeping their heads down until everything blew over.

While SHIELD finished clearing them and the last of the widows were being processed, Yelena stuck to Natasha like glue, apprehensively watching the SHIELD agents with clear distrust. “Are you sure the others will be safe?” She asked, concern cloaked in suspicion, “They won’t be weapons anymore, will they?”

“Not unless they want to,” Was all Natasha could promise, “SHIELD won’t force them, but they lost their choice to be free from this game the moment he got to them.” Vitriol soaked her tone, but Natasha knew her rage was directed at a dead man.

“Okay.”

As if sensing that Yelena had more to say, Natasha took her arm, heading towards an exit, “I promise, SHIELD’s only job is to protect people.”

Snorting, Yelena shook her head, “Protect who? The widows? Or the innocents?”

“Nobody’s innocent, Lena.”

“I don’t trust them,” Yelena continued, “They sweep in when everything’s over to take credit as the ‘good guys’ when all they did was stand around and let these girls be used.” The silent, bitter, like we were used remained unsaid.

“You don’t have to trust them, rooskaya. Just let them do their jobs, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Yelena stopped, staring meaningfully at Natasha, “So is that it?”

“It?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Natalia.”

Turning to face Yelena, Natasha shook her head carefully and faced Yelena’s accusatory eyes, “I don’t know what you mean, Yelena.”

“You said we’ll be on our way,” Yelena snapped, “So that means you’re done, doesn’t it? You’ve come and saved the day, and now it’s time to leave and keep doing good people things.”

“I’m not a good person, Yelena.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m not a good person, Yelena,” Natasha bit back, “I’m doing things to clear out the red in my ledger.”

“Stop it with your stupid martyr complex, Natalia. It’s always just been an excuse to run away. Are you going to do that to me again?” Yelena demanded harshly. 

Despite the conviction in her words, Natasha noticed that Yelena suddenly looked smaller, reminiscent of that last night before everything had gone to shit. She had been small then, too, worrying what would happen if Taskmaster got to any of them.

Natasha’s heart sank. It all made sense; before they had begun actively working against Taskmaster, Yelena had trusted herself to be vulnerable with Natasha because she knew the elder widow wasn’t going anywhere so long as people needed saving. Afterwards, however, Yelena had only known Natasha to disappear when she needed her most.

“No, rooskaya. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to.”

Stepping purposefully towards Natasha, Yelena wrapped her into a tight hug, whispering forcefully, “I never want you to leave me.”

Head resting on Yelena’s shoulders, Natasha didn’t meet her eyes, “I won’t.”

Separating, Yelena smiled, entire countenance shifting, “I’m holding you to that, Natasha Romanoff.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“Good,” This time, it was Yelena who took Natasha’s arm, pulling her towards an idling SUV, “Alexei and Melina are probably already on their way out of the country, so we have the cabin to ourselves. I’m driving this time.”

Natasha was already heading for the passenger side, opening the door and slipping into the seat, “Of course you are.”

Starting the engine, Yelena grinned, “You are a terrible driver. I am doing us all a service.”

“Right.”

The drive was short and mostly filled with silence, neither Yelena nor Natasha having anything important enough to say to break the comforting quiet. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the cabin hidden in a forest that Natasha was rapidly becoming familiar with that Yelena chose to break the silence.

“I hope you aren’t hungry because we don’t have much to eat. Mostly soup. And vodka.” Her voice was flippant, forcedly casual in a way that didn’t suit her.

Natasha laughed roughly, her voice low, “I didn’t really plan on eating food tonight, anyways.

Shutting off the engine and pulling the key out, Yelena turned to Natasha, “Not playing coy? I’m surprised Natalia.”

“Coyness is for idiots who don’t know where they stand.” Natasha replied coolly, “I know exactly where we stand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Natasha replied simply. 

“Wow, romance a girl first, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha replied, “I will wine and dine your pants off someday. But not today,” She pushed open the car door and stepped out, tossing after her, “Now, I believe I was promised soup?”

Not bothering to answer, Yelena simply made her way into the cabin, leaving the door open behind her while clearing the building. Natasha followed after her easily, heading straight for the kitchen.

Calling after herself as she went through the rooms, Yelena sniped, “Make the soup yourself.”

Looking through the selection, Natasha frowned. “Is this really all you have here?”

Popping her head out from a doorway, Yelena laughed at Natasha’s forlorn face, “You weren’t seriously expecting much, were you? All the food was cleared out before we started working. You want food, you bring food. Standard procedure. Sorry to disappoint your exacting palate.”

“Would’ve been nice to eat something real for once,” Natasha muttered darkly, staring spitefully at the cans of soup sitting innocently in the cupboard. They were mocking her, calling out to her with false promises of flavor.

“Aw, I’m sorry for your loss,” Yelena snickered softly, moving closer to Natasha until her arms wrapped around Natasha’s waist, head bending so that her mouth lightly grazed Natasha’s ear, “I promise you’ll have something better to eat later.”

Turning in Yelena’s arms, Natasha’s lips met hers in a kiss, sweet and slow, burning with intensity. It wasn’t a hurried clash of passion, instead a calm reassurance that they were there, together after everything.

Pulling apart for air, their eyes met, gazes simmering with need. As Natasha’s hands wrapped around Yelena’s neck to pull her down into another kiss, it was as if they were two people in the eye of a storm, caught in a moment of peace before everything broke.

Yelena moaned, the sound coming deep from her throat as lips parted and the storm caught up with them, both moving as Natasha pushed Yelena up against the nearest wall. Releasing the kiss, Natasha immediately moved to trail kisses along Yelena’s jaw as her back arched, gasping at Natasha’s touch.

Sinking down to meet her, Yelena threw her head back as Natasha’s mouth moved lower, tracing her collar bones with sharp nips and soothing kisses.

While Yelena clung to her shoulders, Natasha focused her efforts on doing away with Yelena’s clothes, pushing her jacket off and moving her hands around her waist. Sliding a leg between Yelena’s thighs, Natasha took Yelena’s hands in her own and pushed them over her head, holding them together with one hand while the other worked to pull Yelena’s shirt off and throw it behind her.

A whimper escaped Yelena’s lips as she ground down on Natasha’s leg, pleading and desperate, “Natalia, please.”

Looking up from her position, Natasha smirked, “Yes, Yelena?”

Freeing her hands, Yelena groaned, shoving Natasha’s head down, “Don’t tease, Natalia, I swear-”

Her words were cut off as Natasha licked purposefully down her stomach, gorgeous abdominals flexing with every movement until Natasha made it to her hips. Pressing kisses at Yelena’s hips while tugging off the rest of her clothes, Natasha guided Yelena’s legs further apart as she kneeled fully between them.

Sighing at the first kiss pressed into the inside of her thigh and hissing as Natasha began sucking purposefully, Yelena’s hands fisted themselves in Natasha’s hair, tugging her closer to where she wanted Natasha’s mouth on her.

Natasha obliged gracefully, smiling at Yelena’s eagerness and setting herself to work. Yelena moaned at the first touch of Natasha’s tongue, legs shuddering around Natasha. Moving to secure them over her shoulders, Natasha supported Yelena’s weight as the blonde tightened around her.Natasha worked insistently even as Yelena began to fall over the edge, pushing her through wave after wave. 

Once her last shudders calmed, Yelena pulled Natasha up to her, foreheads resting together as they stared into each other’s eyes. It was a deeply intimate moment, the kind that always precipitated being thrust apart by unfortunate circumstances. Natasha hated that kind of moment, if only because the pain from their inevitable separation only struck harder afterwards.

Reclaiming Yelena’s lips in a desperate kiss, Natasha tried to quiet the swirling storms in her mind, pressing into Yelena’s form with a gasping intensity. 

They parted softly, Yelena’s lips quirking in a soft smile, “I take it you missed me then, Natalia?” Her voice was a low purr, heavy and lightly stoking the flames burning low in Natasha’s belly.

Natasha fell into Yelena, lips ghosting on her breastbone, “Of course I did, Lena. You are my soul,” Her words were said softly, a whispered promise she didn’t yet understand lacing through them, “I will always miss you, rooskaya.”

“Oh?” A glimmer of mischief shone in Yelena’s eyes when Natasha’s rose to meet them, something playful and dangerous sparkling in them as Yelena spoke.

“…Yes.” Natasha swore, “You and I, we are two parts of the same whole, and I will never not miss a half of my soul. I have gone through decades without you, and I’m not willing to do it again.”

“Hm,” Yelena adopted a pensive expression, “You talk big game, Natalia.” Before Natasha could fully register her words, Yelena spun Natasha by her hips until her back was pressed to Yelena’s front, the taller widow holding her securely around the waist. Bending to whisper in her ear, Yelena asked slowly, “Do you really mean it?”

Head tilting to look Yelena in the eye, Natasha breathed out emphatically, “Of course, Yelena. You are everything.”

“How much is everything?”

Yelena’s words were barely a whisper, uncertainty bleeding through even as they pushed closer to each other. As dusk fell, and with the last rays of sun shining through the cabin, Yelena looked ethereal, an angel in the blinding light and Natasha wanted nothing more than to reach for her, hold her into the darkness of night.

“Whatever you want.”

“I’m taking you up on that one day, Natasha Romanoff.”

“I look forward to it, Yelena Boleva.”

They smiled stupidly at each other, stumbling inelegantly towards their bed, and falling gracelessly into each other as the night wore on around them.

Natasha woke holding Yelena, the two curled into each other on the bed and the blankets kicked away in the night. Taking advantage of the moment, Natasha held Yelena closer, nuzzling into a mass of blonde hair contentedly. 

Responding to the contact, Yelena groaned, an arm batting at Natasha carelessly, “Too early. Sleep.” 

It wasn’t a request, but Natasha wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, instead brushing Yelena’s hair away and pressing kisses into her neck insistently. Yelena shifted beside her, halfheartedly moving away, but Natasha only chased her further along the bed until they reached the edge.

Yelena turned, facing Natasha and pouting, “Stop being mean,” She swatted away Natasha’s advances, but her lips twitched, fighting a grin.

Natasha hummed, reaching out for Yelena.

“Really, stop it.” Even as the words left her mouth, Yelena moved, rolling atop Natasha and pinning her hands to the side. Straddling Natasha’s hips with blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, Yelena looked like a goddess above her and there was nothing Natasha wanted more than to worship.

“Make me.”

Rather than answer, Yelena kissed her, a dizzying mix of passion, as if they had nothing better to do than laze about together in bed. Natasha returned the kiss, freeing her hands to wrap around Yelena. The ardor of last night had cooled, the embers burning softly between them, yet as the kiss drew on, the flames roared to life. Just as they had reached a crescendo, Yelena pulled away.

The moment was lost, and Natasha whined, reaching out for her, but Yelena only laughed, “I’m hungry.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow, “And I’m cooking?”

“Smart woman,” Yelena confirmed. She slid off Natasha, slipped on a shirt, and moved towards the door, tossing after her, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Groaning, Natasha threw her head back, but after throwing on whatever she could find, she met Yelena in the kitchen, perusing whatever was in the cupboards, “So, breakfast soup?”

Yelena leveled Natasha with an unamused look, stepping back to reveal her findings, “We need to get out of here.”

Surveying their choices, Natasha was inclined to agree. “Tomato? Or chicken?” 

Yelena simply looked defeated. “Chicken.”

Dumping the soup into a pot to warm it up, Natasha allowed herself a smile at the domesticity. She never thought to find herself in such a situation, but there were no complaints on her end.

Once the soup was properly heated, Natasha poured it evenly into two bowls, setting them on the table with a flourish, “Soup for two?”

Yelena began eating with vicious contempt, gazing at the soup as if it had personally offended her, “This is not wining and dining. Where is the romance?” She waved her spoon around, “I hope you know I expect better than…this when you take me out.”

“Like in a date? Or murder?”

Yelena didn’t deign to respond to that, instead continuing on with her date plans, “I want food. Lots of it, and good. None of this stupid soup shit. There will be alcohol. Also lots of it. And then we will go dancing-”

Natasha cut her off, “I hate dancing.”

Yelena looked up from her soup, “And?”

“What kind of dancing?”

“I don’t know. Whatever people do these days. You know, where they drink a lot of alcohol and grind against each other while pretending they aren’t going deaf to awful EDM.”

Natasha grimaced, “I hate dancing,” She repeated.

“Too bad. I want to go dancing.” Yelena wouldn’t budge on the point, “If we don’t go dancing, then I will let you top the entire time we have sex and enjoy it far more than you.”

Natasha sighed, “There will be dancing,” She agreed.

“Good.”

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

Nothing more was said on the subject, and although Natasha had taken Yelena out on quite a few so-called romantic outings, they had never had the chance to dance together.

Perhaps she would go dancing, Natasha decided. She could invite Steve, Carol, or all the Avengers and call it a team-bonding exercise. They would probably hate it just as much as her.

She would bring it up at the next debriefing. Team bonding, after all, was very important for morale.


	6. Avengers x Happiness

Considering Natasha had mentally committed herself to attending a debriefing, she felt that it was only right to actually show up. Physically. Steve would surely try to convince her to help the Avengers with whatever humanitarian crisis they were currently dealing with. Natasha was still on the fence about taking part in whatever Steve was planning, but she conceded that it would be worth hearing out what he would have to say.

When she got to the main conference room, the only person there was Rhodey. He was sitting back in his chair, relaxed but still tense only the way a military man could be. The moment he saw Natasha, Rhodey did a double take, watching as she strode in and made herself comfortable in the chair opposite him.

Rhodey continued watching as Natasha sprawled sideways in her chair, legs propped over the edge of a sidebar, “Feeling good there, Romanoff?”

Throwing him a grin she didn’t quite feel, Natasha smirked, “Best I’ve ever been, Rhodes.”

Laughing, Rhodey shook his head, tossing a nearby file towards her, “Since you’ve decided to grace the rest of us with your presence, might as well get caught up.”

Natasha reached out for the file, flipping it open and giving it a cursory scan. In it were two sections, one labelled “Earth” and the other, “Space”. The Earth portion of the file contained various violent outbreaks as well as updates across the planet. There was even a small part on Clint’s assumed whereabouts. Natasha hummed, skimming through the Space section with more interest. The information there was less specific, far less detailed than what was there for Earth. It seemed that although the Avengers may have been Earth’s mightiest heroes, they were far less prepared to protect the rest of the universe.

“Have we done any outreach for the rest of the world?” Natasha asked with interest. International politics were beyond her, but she figured at least somebody associated with the Avengers had begun connecting with the rest of the galaxy.

Rhodey frowned, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Natasha waved her hand carelessly, “Gotten in contact with other planets, built a network of information, and set up aid. The basics after any major crisis.”

A telling pause after Natasha spoke filled the space, “No, I don’t think we did that. Most of our intergalactic work is handled by Carol and the Guardians.”

Natasha shook her head, “You guys really ought to get on that. Based off how the Snap affected Earth, I’d be willing to bet that there are other planets struggling to.”

Before Rhodey had a chance to answer, others began filing into the room. By others, Natasha meant Steve and Carol. For such a large room, the fact that there were only four people was made especially stark.

Steve made his way to the head of the table, pressing a button on the side. Suddenly, three holograms appeared, one of which where Natasha was sitting. It was quite startling to be sitting in one’s chair one moment, and the next be sitting in a holographic image of a person, “I’ll, just, ah, be moving, then.” Natasha switched seats to where nobody nor any holograms where occupying, ignoring Carol’s bemused look.

Once Natasha was properly settled, she had the chance to take in the new arrivals. In her old seat was Okoye, who only seemed amused by the turn of events. Beside her on one side was Nebula, and on the other was that talking raccoon, Rocket.

“Alright,” Steve announced, “Natasha will be joining us today, so let’s get straight to it, shall we?”

The others agreed, and the meeting was officially underway.

“Is there any pressing news we need to be informed about?” Steve asked, “Anything important before we get into individual updates?”

“Yeah, actually I’ve heard reports of shady activities going on around that sector the Captain’s heading to soon,” Rocket spoke up, “Something about pirates or something like that.”

“Oh?” Carol perked up, “Did you get any specifics?”

“Uh, well I got stories of people getting attacked in transit around those areas, and some extra security for ships heading into those areas, but that’s about all.”

“That’s all you could get?”

Natasha could tell that Carol did not mean to be rude or condescending in any way, but Rocket bristled nonetheless, “Hey Cap, it’s not like I’ve got a dedicated network of people ready to feed me information at a moment’s notice, alright? I’m doing what I can, but there’s just two of us in a ship and a whole lotta space.”

Carol sighed, “I know. I didn’t mean to offend. There’s just...so much going on right now. We’re doing all we can, but it’s just not enough.”

“I feel ya, sister. It’s a lot to go through,” Rocket shook his head, “There’s just not enough of us.”

Around the room, similar faces of agreement were displayed on the others’ faces. Everyone looked tired, everyone looked like they had been stretched far too thin for far too long. Natasha shook her head internally. This was no way to serve a galaxy. At the rate they were going, everyone would be burned out in just a couple of years, and where would that leave the rest of the universe?

“As if crisis control for half the universe disappearing wasn’t enough, there are still people out there wreaking havoc on the rest of the world.” Nebula appeared rightfully furious at the fact, “Thanos couldn’t even get that right.”

“I don’t think anybody can foresee the lengths at which people will go to profit off others,” Natasha pointed out, “Unfortunately.”

“Right,” Steve frowned, “That’s obviously not good. Carol, can you take care of them when you head over to that sector?”

“Of course,” Carol assured him, “If I know what I’m looking for. I don’t, however, have the time to go on a wild goose chase for pirates when there’s still so much ground to cover.”

“If only we had a dedicated information and aid network over which we could communicate and connect the whole universe...” Natasha trailed off, shaking her head, “Why don’t we have that?”

“We, uh, never got around to that,” Steve looked momentarily chagrined, “It just never came up.”

“Well, we can get started now. Make a database for all intergalactic content, keep files on major threats and activity in all regions, set up communication networks to keep us updated, the works and all that.” Natasha responded evenly, “It might be more work now, but it will definitely pay off in the long run.”

“That’s a really good idea,” Steve agreed, and the others nodded their assent, “We should also reach out, see if there are any groups already doing that and get in touch.”

Rocket was of a similar mind, adding, “There was the Nova Corps, but they were all wiped out by Thanos. It wouldn’t hurt to check out if any of their infrastructure is still around, though.”

“I can go check that out,” Carol offered, “They were based off Xandar, right?”

“Yeah.”

The meeting continued, with each off the members giving updates about their work and the status of their respective regions. Carol, Nebula, and Rocket had far more varied reports corresponding to the large expanse of space they were responsible for. They could not cover everything, or even anything close to everything, but they did what they could to be as thorough as possible for each region they went through. The lack of impermanence, however, meant that they could not keep up with regions outside of their immediate purview.

On the other hand, just because the others were Earth-bound did not mean they had Earth in complete hands. Despite the Avengers’ best efforts, there was still plenty to deal with, far more than they were completely capable of handling.

Through all the reports, Natasha listened intently, mentally compiling her own database of information. Her mind was running with various solutions, contingencies, and possible courses of action. As the meeting wore on, Steve only appeared more and more harried. He tried his best, but it was clear that all the leadership was wearing on him.

Natasha sighed. It appeared someone needed a lesson in selfishness. Just as she had needed one, so too it seemed did Steve. He put the world on his shoulders and carried it with him for so long that Natasha knew that he would never see the fall coming. But she also knew it would come. Whether it was tomorrow or five years down the line, there would be a time when all the pressure broke Steve, and she was resolved to make sure it never happened.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that Natasha barely reacted when Steve announced that the meeting was adjourned, only focusing back when his hand clapped her on the shoulder, “You alright there, Nat?”

Shaking her head, Natasha let out a short laugh, “Yeah, sorry. Zoned out a bit at the end there. It’s just so much, you know?”

“I do,” Steve nodded solemnly, “But it’s up to us to protect those that can’t protect themselves.”

“You’re right, of course, but it’s also up to us to take care of ourselves as well. We can’t let ourselves get so caught up in being there for others if we don’t make sure our own health isn’t taken care of.”

With a sigh, Steve nodded, closing his eyes briefly. Despite the pain overcoming his features, he looked as if some of that weight was finally being lifted off his shoulders. “I know. It’s just so hard to face how much of a mess my life is when everyone else’s life is a mess, too. It’s just easier to keep going, you know, instead of stopping to see how much I’ve lost.”

It struck Natasha that although she may have needed a strong wakeup call and some therapy, all of the Avengers were in the same boat. They had all gone through so much loss and still expected to be able to help the rest of the world despite their own lives being in shambles. Not to mention, most of the other original Avengers were all scattered to the wind, coping in their own ways, leaving Steve and Natasha to face this brave new world together. It may have pained the Natasha of a few years past to admit it, but she missed the others, even Tony.

Suddenly Natasha had an idea to bring up Steve’s spirits, “Why don’t we do something tonight? You look completely spent. Some R&R would do you wonders.”

Steve might not have admitted it, but he perked up noticeably at the suggestion. “Sure. What were you thinking of?”

“Let’s watch a movie or something. I’m sure the others would be interested, too.” Natasha looked at the others pointedly, mentally daring them to disagree.

Rhodey shrugged, “I don’t have anything better to do.”

Carol agreed as well, “Sounds fun. Don’t have any plans anyways.”

Steve examined Natasha carefully, as if checking for any signs of foul play. She did not know whether or not to be offended at his reaction to her offer, but she certainly was not surprised. It wasn’t like she was the most sociable teammate, generally strong-armed by Clint or pestered by Tony into participating in team activities, but she did think of Steve as a close friend. They had been there for each other when their worlds fell apart, and they had always supported each other. “Sounds good,” he agreed, “Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha trailed off, throwing a suggestive look towards both Carol and Steve, “I have some ideas, Captains.”

In the end, they found themselves in a large common room, everyone spread out on various couches and focused on the screen before them. Mean Girls was playing, a movie Steve admitted to never having seen before. It was clearly a tragedy that Natasha knew must be swiftly rectified, a sentiment Carol clearly concurred with.

Before she knew it, Steve was laughing along to the movie and commenting at various intervals. Natasha understood his sympathy with Janis and Cady, but she knew that the true victim of the whole affair would always be Gretchen. Girl was in love with someone who could never love her back, and that was the true tragedy.

It was when Natasha is sprawled out on a couch sandwiched between Carol and Steve with the rest of the present Avengers that she realized for the first time in what felt like forever, she was at peace. The world may still have been a proverbial dumpster fire, and a part of her heart would still be a gaping wound, but Natasha was surrounded by her family, doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s company. She honestly could not ask for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gretchen being a baby gay and in love with Regina is the hill I will die on also the musical has taken over and it is the only canon I will accept.
> 
> I came into this fic expecting to write about an angsty spy missing her wife and instead I will be examining all the characters through the lens of their therapist. This chapter was never meant to be the semi filler that it turned out to be (even though Natasha's character continues to grow) but the absolutely excellent scene I wrote and took out will be coming soon it is chock full of angst.


	7. Memories

Morning came and brought with it a whole new set of problems; Natasha felt  _ happy _ . The feeling was not one that she was overtly familiar with, but Natasha recognized the signs. There was no overwhelming shadow of loss hanging over her, even when she woke up alone in a starkly impersonal room with no distinguishing features. It might have been her room, but Natasha had never put in the effort to make it  _ her  _ room.

With the realization that she might have actually been something resembling happy, any traces of said happiness easily evaporated. How could Natasha be happy when she had never been able to deserve it? Every time happiness had been thrusted upon her, Natasha had rejected it out of hand. She had never felt worth it.

Stopping herself from descending further into a spiral, Natasha shook her head. It was this kind of mindset that had made Natasha give up her happiness in the pursuit of redemption. Her determination to erase some of the red in her ledger had forced Natasha to push away the last bits of happiness she had left, shoving them away until it was too late to take it back.

It would do her no good to fall into a path of could have beens, no matter how much Natasha wished she could have changed the past. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall Carol’s words. Natasha might not have felt worthy for happiness, but she reasoned that plenty of happy people were equally unworthy.

Who was she to define worthiness? 

Natasha may have never done anything in her life to deserve happiness, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t something she didn’t still, well, deserve. Life wasn’t some challenge to rack up as many happiness points as possible; it was a journey to satisfaction, and it was entirely Natasha’s choice whether or not she chose to finish.

Moreover, her happiness wasn’t contingent upon anyone else. She may have been deeply, tragically in love with Yelena, but the lack of Yelena’s physical presence didn’t mean she wasn’t with Natasha. So long as Natasha remembered and honored her memory, Yelena would always be with her.

Her choices in the past may have been foolhardy and driven by a sense of debit to society for her misdeeds, but Natasha could finally choose what was best for herself. Her past decisions may have been aimed at guiding her towards the road to happiness, but Natasha was finally ready to take that first step for herself. Alone. No, she corrected herself. She was not alone. She had Carol. She had Steve. She had Bruce. She had everyone she was willing to let in, and Natasha would not be alone anymore.

In fact, she hadn’t been alone in a long, long time now.

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

After Natasha’s defection, despite decades separated from each other by the Red Room, Natasha found herself frequently crossing paths with Yelena. The first time it happened, Yelena had been sent to kill her. News of her desertion had travelled quickly, and the Red Room had apparently not taken it well.

For the first time since her joining SHIELD, Natasha had been entrusted with a solo mission while Clint took his mandated medical leave. She had been sent to deal with a suspicious diplomat’s dealings with various foreign dignitaries. SHIELD believed that Andre Simon was about to cross the line from shady discussions to treasonous endangerment of world peace, and it was Natasha’s job to stop him. At least, that’s what it said in the report.

Officially Natasha’s orders were to contain Simon during the gala at the US Embassy and ensure no classified information escaped the man.

In reality, Natasha was sent in to discover what potential information Simon was leaking and make sure said information never made it to whatever third-party Simon was working for. SHIELD had not explicitly advised Natasha on how she was expected to fulfill her mission, but the recon team had noted Simon’s weakness for pretty redheads with green eyes. Natasha knew how to put two-and-two together, and she was at least grateful SHIELD saw fit not to invite Clint on the mission. For all that she cared about how others thought about her, Natasha found herself strangely concerned with the archer’s opinion of her. 

Although SHIELD had completed initial reconnaissance before she had even touched down in Europe, Natasha busied herself with completing her own recon in the days leading up to the gala. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust SHIELD’s highly capable agents, but Natasha didn’t trust them. 

It amazed Natasha how lax American security was, but Natasha shrugged it off. It only made her job for the next two days easier as she snagged an intern’s security badge and made her way into the embassy. She felt bad for the interns, always dealt the short end of the stick and always the perfect target for security breaches. They were just such easy targets.

Striding through the hallways, Natasha appeared as if she knew exactly where she was going. She did, but only because she had spent the entire plane ride poring over embassy blueprints and committing every bit to memory. Natasha noted the position of the cameras and sensors, made sure every exit was where it should be, and secured the entire building before feeling at least slightly more comfortable with the rest of her mission. 

By the time Natasha was satisfied with her work, afternoon had begun to turn to dusk and people began to appear, filling the nearby Liberty Square. Natasha slipped into the mingling crowds and made her way towards her SHIELD-arranged apartment. Upon arrival, Natasha busied herself with clearing the apartment before collapsing into bed. Her day wasn’t physically strenuous by any means, but a 14-hour between missions was nobody’s friend.

The crack of the first shot through the window woke Natasha instantly. The only reason she wasn’t dead, Natasha knew, was the low visibility of night and altered sleeping position. The sniper had shot where Natasha’s head should have been—had she slept in the standard Red Room position. Natasha did the math quickly. Rolling hastily off the bed away from the window while grabbing the gun off her nightstand as she went, Natasha concluded that the Red Room had finally acted on her desertion. Keeping her body low to the ground as more shots rang out, Natasha moved as quickly as possible out of her apartment and down the stairs before pausing at the exit.

Who, Natasha wondered, was the lucky soul sent to kill the Black Widow? Presumably whoever it was would be taking up her mantle should she succeed. “Good try, little spider,” Natasha muttered, “But you just lost your chance.”

Natasha was momentarily safe, but she knew her only feasible chance of escape would be through the cover of night. Her would-be successor would have the advantage in the day and would be more than willing to play the waiting game. Moreover, the building exit was in the direction facing where the shots had come from.

Cursing to herself quietly, Natasha went to one of the ground floor apartments and mentally prayed whoever lived there wasn’t home. Knowing her luck, they most definitely were. 

Such a time like this, Natasha figured, required no subtlety. Natasha kicked the door in and raced towards the nearest window facing away from the sniper. She made it out just as pounding feet and startled shouts neared her escape window, taking off the moment her feet hit the ground. As Natasha continued making distance from her apartment, she mentally began reviewing her situation. Not only was her location revealed, but her equipment was most certainly lost to her, and Natasha had no way of contacting her handlers without alerting the new Widow of her position. Even if whoever was sent to kill her did not succeed, Natasha knew that SHIELD’s amnesty would only last as long as they trusted her not to run back to Russia, but her current situation was doing nothing for her odds. If Natasha couldn’t get in touch with her handlers soon, she knew that both the Red Room and SHIELD would be baying for her blood in short order. In other words, she was most entirely fucked.

It was there, standing in a dimly lit alley on the streets of Budapest that Natasha realized she had a choice. For the first time in her life, while said life hung in the balance, Natasha had the chance to choose for herself. She could run, she could leave behind SHIELD and everything it represented, run as far away as possible from it and all the do-gooders it attracted and fight for herself like she always had.

Or Natasha could stop running. She could turn around and ask for help. She would face her demons, there would be no question about it, but Natasha could finally let herself trust that someone would be there to watch her back, trust that she was no longer alone. The thought frightened Natasha. For as long as she could remember, she had never had someone in her corner. Nobody to back her up, nobody to make sure that she wouldn’t fall without someone to fall with her.

Perhaps, Natasha decided, today would be the day she let herself fall.

Mind made up, Natasha began to move towards a busier area of the city at night, making sure to keep towards the shadows until she could disappear into a crowd. As she walked through the city, Natasha kept a careful eye out for any shadows following her. She was probably not followed but being shot at by a sniper into her ostensible safe house would make anybody wary.

She melted into the crowd, picking a phone out of an unsuspecting person’s pocket, and turning towards a side alley. Slipping in, Natasha gazed at the phone. Her mind was a rolodex of numbers, none of which she wanted to dial. Natasha closed her eyes, breathing in deeply while reassuring herself that this was the right thing to do. She began to press down into the buttons until a number stared back at her.

_ Let yourself fall _ , Natasha reminded herself, pushing the dial key.

On the sixth ring, just as Natasha was beginning to give up hope, the other line was picked up, a heavy male voice drowsy with sleep answering, “Who is this and how do you have this number.”

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, “Clint, it’s me.”

A pause, and then, “Nat? Why are you calling?” Clint’s voice was a cocktail of caution and concern. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Budapest?”

“I am.” Natasha wasn’t sure how to continue. What could she say? She was being targeted by some unknown third party and thus had to go AWOL to catch the person trying to kill her? She cursed her circumstances, unable to even properly think through a conversation.

“Right. And?”

Closing her eyes, Natasha prayed to a god she didn’t believe in. If anybody deserved miracles, it would be her right about now. “Some things came up. I need to go dark. It shouldn’t be more than a day, but I promise. I’m not a traitor.”

Her prayers apparently didn’t work, or God wasn’t taking requests at 1 o’clock GMT. Clint remained silent, before expelling a deep sigh that told more than his words, “Why are you telling me this?”

Another sigh. “My safe house was corrupted. I can’t contact my handlers because I don’t know who ordered the hit. But I need to take care of this.”

“Nat,” a distinct hint of warning edged into Clint’s voice, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re telling me this.”

“Because I don’t have anyone else to tell.”

And then, Clint barely hesitates before responding, “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll see what I can do.”

After finishing, Clint hung up, leaving Natasha to stare at her phone. She mulled over his words before shaking her head. She had done enough falling. It was time to take care of business. She snapped the phone in half, dropping the side with the battery where she stood before exiting the alley and slipping the other half onto the nearest person.

Mentally bringing up her map of Budapest, Natasha circled back towards her abandoned safe house, moving toward the building that housed the sniper’s nest. As she neared the building, Natasha began mentally calculating the angles and trajectories involved in the attempted assassination. Narrowing down the height from the angle to the roof, Natasha began to move with purpose.

If she had any luck, the sniper would have left some sort of clue as to who had sent them or who they were. If her prayers had truly struck, the sniper would still be there, waiting for Natasha’s return. 

She moved easily around the front of the building, heading straight toward the fire escape and pulling herself up. At the last level, Natasha launched her body upwards and vaulted over the edge, landing neatly on the roof in a crouch. The air was still, Natasha’s body tensely coiled with energy as she examined her surroundings.

Nothing was out of place.

Cautious with every step, Natasha slowly straightened her body as she began to stalk the roof, looking for any sign of her attacker.

None were found.

Natasha headed towards the entrance that bisected the roof, eyes tracking the shadows for any sign of the assassin. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something glinting in the darkness. The brief shimmer was enough distraction for the attack from the figure hiding to her left to strike.

The blow knocked her off guard, but Natasha’s instincts kicked in, blocking the follow up and pushing herself away to assess the situation. Her attacker was slightly taller than herself, blonde hair tied up into a ponytail and nearly feral as she leapt at Natasha. To the right of the woman lay some disassembled sniper equipment, neatly packed away and ready for transport. Her attacker was unarmed and well trained, clearly confident in her ability to eliminate Natasha easily. However, her behavior was telling. Natasha knew she wasn’t expected to be here already.

That was good. It meant she still had some element of surprise left. Whoever had sent this woman had clearly not informed her about who exactly she was sent to kill. Smiling grimly to herself, Natasha lunged toward her opponent.

They clashed in a spectacular flurry of movement, neither willing to concede the upper hand. Although the blonde was taller and had a longer reach, Natasha was the more skilled fighter, dancing between strikes and moving into the other’s space with startling speed.

A glancing blow was all Natasha needed to divert attention as she slammed her other hand into the enemy’s liver, following up with a smooth takedown that brought them both to the ground. Straddling her foe, Natasha was able to force both of her hands above her head and bring her forearm down to the other’s windpipe. Her opponent snarled viciously and tried to throw her off, but Natasha rested her weight down and kept her hold.

Applying the slightest bit of pressure with her forearm into the blonde’s throat, Natasha brought her face closer to the assassin and demanded, “Who sent you.”

No response was forthcoming, and Natasha pressed down harder. Hissing, the woman replied in Russian, “ _ Traitor. I have been sent to kill you. _ ”

“I realized,” Natasha said, “But that’s not what I asked. Who. Sent. You.” She punctuated her words with increasing pressure until she received a response.

“ _ I have been sent to kill the traitor. The little girl who ran away. I will kill you and take your place as the Black Widow.” _

Natasha blinked. Once, twice, as she processed those words. “You’re kidding me,” she said flatly, “The fucking Red Room?”

All she received was a spit in the face for her efforts as the woman’s body seemed to fall limp. At the same moment, a cloud must have moved because light fell on the aspiring Widow to reveal her in greater detail. A round face framed by golden hair and a cutting jawline. At the back of her mind, something whispered that this woman was familiar. That Natasha knew her.

Natasha shook her head. That was impossible. She didn’t know anyone from the Red Room. But then. Streaks of blonde hair flashed before her, a bright smile and a warm body, then screaming and crying and then nothing. Natasha flinched.

“…Yelena?”

_ “Traitor.” _

Yelena’s eyes shone in the darkness, a muddled mix of confusion and rage. Something in Natasha cried out for Yelena to recognize her, to remember her and all that they had been, but Yelena’s eyes grew cold. They hardened and she scoffed,  _ “I do not know you, traitor.” _

Inwardly, Natasha screamed at the rebuff. Her arms slackened as she battled within herself to beg Yelena to remember. She had lost so much, and now she knew everything. Except none of it mattered because this twisted version of Yelena did not. “Don’t you remember? The Red Room, our class, everything that happened?”

_ “I do not know you, only that you are a traitor to your country.” _ Natasha’s momentary distraction was enough for Yelena to force herself free, shoving Natasha away as she darted for the edge of the roof.

Robotically, Natasha followed, a prisoner within her own body as she fought to catch up. It was all for naught as Yelena reached the edge and turned to face Natasha, conflict raging in her eyes. She had time to let out one last parting shot.

_ “I do not know you, traitor, but I will kill you. _ ” With that promise, Yelena flipped herself over the edge, disappearing from sight just as Natasha reached where Yelena had jumped. In the darkness, Yelena’s figure was completely hidden from view.

Checking to make sure Yelena was not simply hanging at the edge, Natasha sighed. Yelena was well and truly gone. She had no idea what had happened to her Yelena, only that the Red Room had twisted her beyond measure. And it was all Natasha’s fault. Even worse, Natasha hadn’t even remembered her as she began her descent into darkness. Moving back towards Yelena’s gear, Natasha bent down to inspect the rifle and its accompaniments. The whole affair was neat, clinical, and left no clues as to what had become of Yelena beyond a tool for the Red Room.

Although the fight and the ensuing conversation had answered many of Natasha’s questions, it brought up a whole host of others. The Red Room wanted her dead, presumably for her defection, but they had sent Yelena. Did they know about their connection? Did they know that Natasha would regain her memories? What would become of Yelena now that she had failed?

Natasha shook her head. It wouldn’t do to obsess over this. She had made her choices, just as Yelena had made hers. She had a mission to finish.

-§-§-§-§-§-§-§-

Thinking back on it now, Natasha knew that had been the first time she had chosen to be selfish. After her midnight encounter with Yelena, she knew the blonde would not make another attempt on her life. Returning to her safe house, Natasha had called her handlers, informed them about the situation, and completed her mission with little complication despite her brief period of going AWOL and missed check-ins.

It wasn’t until much later that she learned Clint had contacted SHIELD and vouched for her, enough that she received no punishment for her insubordination and dark time. He had probably saved her life, and she hadn’t even known about it.

It was also the first time Natasha had made a decision for herself, the first time that allowed her choices to be guided by her own desires. It wasn’t for the Red Room, or SHIELD, or even Yelena that Natasha did what she did. It was for herself. And she found herself supported the entire time, even if from the shadows.

Natasha smiled. No, she hadn’t been alone in a long time. And it was all on her own terms.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, and I can be found lurking around on tumblr [@ehemond](https://ehemond.tumblr.com)


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